I recall making mud pies, as a child. What fun it was holding wet dirt and molding it into round shapes and covering them with colored sugar. This feast for the dog was only made palatable because of the topping, and of course today a parent could be accused of child abuse for allowing their child to play in the mud.
I’m currently up to my ears in 24 years worth of dirt and suddenly my childhood fascination has lost its excitement. This week is our final purging of things hidden in the shadows of the crawl spaces in our current house. It almost seems that these spaces were reserved for things we wanted to hang on to, for whatever reason, that have no value, but we thought we would use someday. There were three boxes of fabric, several large rolls of fabric, a pair of velvet, suspendered shorts that my husband wore as a child, empty boxes (which we actually can use for our move) and lots of other things.
How often we fill our lives with useless things – things that have no value – things that eventually wind up in the trash or get donated. The stuff we hold on to seems important at the time, but we soon realize that its worth was meaningless.
As we look at our current state of affairs in this country and around the world, none of it matters. There’s nothing new under the sun. It’s all been said and done before.
The only thing that has merit, as we walk through this veil of dirt called life, is the One who created us. We can scrub away the surface dirt, but we’ll never be clean internally unless we believe that Jesus died to wash us clean enough to appear before His Father.
I fear my house will not be totally clean when we leave it, but I am confident that those who lived in it will be. Someone hand me a scrub brush!